


Go to Sleep, Mr Eames

by heyitsamorette (AmoretteHD)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Co-workers, Dirty Talk, M/M, Pining, Rimming, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8973484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/pseuds/heyitsamorette
Summary: Sharing a room while on the job? Might not be such a problem if Arthur's roommate weren't Eames. Oh, and if there were two beds.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oceaxe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/gifts).



> My lovely, dear friend, Oceaxe! I hope you enjoy this little fic. I love you loads, Merry Christmas ♥ 
> 
> Thank you bookshop/Aja for looking this over in such a pinch!

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Cobb was trying to kill him. But Cobb couldn’t know. Arthur doubted anyone knew, which brought him an immense sense of gratification. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to conceal anything he wished to from those around him — his emotions being principal among those things.

No, Arthur was a master. Cobb could have had no idea what he was doing when he booked the rooms. The fact that Arthur, now, walked into hotel room 315 only to find a tan sportcoat tossed across an armchair was an event occurring entirely by the grace of coincidence. This jacket—the cheap polyester that mimicked the look of wool, the renegade thread poking out from one of the buttons, and the faux-gold cufflinks shining in the sleeve—could only belong to one person. That one person also left the charred butts of recently-lit cigars perched on the ashtray so their burnt odour could permeate the room. Arthur crinkled his nose.

Eames strolled out from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and another in hand, scrubbing his hair dry. His skin maintained that dewy look of someone who was no longer wet but not quite dry.

“Mr Eames,” Arthur said, walking to the only bed in the room: another piece of evidence in the case of Cobb wanting to kill him.

“Ah, Arthur.” Eames wrapped the towel around his neck and held onto each end. “Do I take it we’re to be roommates?”

“Looks like it.” Arthur dropped his duffle bag on the bed. “I guess I’ll take this side.”

“If you like,” Eames said, shrugging one shoulder as he went to the wardrobe. He had arrived early enough to commandeer the closet space, apparently, as he had already hung all his clothes and a small black suitcase was perched neatly on top. His back muscles flexed as he reached down to pick up a folded item from the shelf.

Arthur rummaged in his duffle bag to ignore the spike of discomfort in his gut.

“How was your flight?” Eames asked as he pulled a pair of cotton pajama pants up his legs, under the towel.

“Fine. Long.”

“Ah, yes, Tokyo is a long ways away from New York.”

“I take it you flew in from somewhere much closer?”

“Just finished a job in Seoul.” Eames smirked. “They had free champagne in first class.”

Arthur shook his head and couldn’t stop from huffing out a laugh. As much as the man was infuriating and ridiculous, his charm sometimes did work on Arthur too. He found his toothbrush and his pajamas and headed straight into the bathroom, shutting the door harder than he meant to. The mirror was still foggy from Eames’ shower.

He emerged to find the room darker than when he left it. Eames had shut off the lamp on his nightstand and tucked himself in, the duvet gathered under his arm. So he slept shirtless—that was a fun fact about Eames that Arthur had never needed to know.

Arthur carefully lifted the duvet on his side and tried to get into the bed as gingerly as possible. The mattress dipped and moved, and Arthur glanced over his shoulder, but Eames made no indication of being disturbed.

The last thing he did was plug his phone in next to him. He set his alarm for 5 a.m. and set it to vibrate. Cobb was waiting for them at 6, and Arthur wanted enough time to eat breakfast.

His head hit the pillow and he sighed contentedly. Something about the bed was pleasantly warm.

 

Æ

 

“How did you sleep?” Cobb asked, biting into his burger.

Arthur snorted. “You did it as a joke, right?” He traced the cool drops of perspiration on his glass of beer. He had to send his own meal back (“I asked for chicken on this salad.”) so Cobb was probably going to be finished by the time Arthur started.

It was fine. They’d have more time to talk. That’s what having dinner alone was for anyways. Not that they had planned it this time, truth be told. They usually ate together—they had been friends for so long, they were completely at ease in each other's company—but this time they had asked everyone else to join after they finished working. Ariadne went off to complete some homework assignment, Yusuf was going to call his mother, and the Eames had a ‘previous engagement’. He had no idea what that meant but he’d stopped himself from asking. There was no way Eames knew anyone in Tokyo to already have a date with, although Arthur was not naive enough to imagine Eames couldn’t seek out various forms of entertainment somewhere.

“Actually Ariadne booked the rooms this time.” Cobb grinned. “When she said she’d put you in with Eames, I knew we were in for an interesting trip.”

How could Cobb know? Surely he didn’t. He just meant he knew Arthur and Eames sniped at each other and didn’t exactly get along. He couldn’t know the other stuff that went on in Arthur’s head.

Stuff Arthur highly disapproved of and tried to stamp out.

“She couldn’t have booked a double room?” Arthur asked. “You know: two beds?”

Cobb held his hands up. “Low budget job, my friend.”

“Yeah, well don’t take any more of those. Or at least tell me my cut before I hop on a plane.” This job was paying him way less than his usual fee, but he never asked these sort of questions when Cobb called him up. He would do one of Cobb’s jobs for even less, he was mostly joking about the cut. It was just… Eames.

Arthur sipped his beer. “At least it’s a quick one.”

“That’s right.” Cobb nodded. “You’ll only have to put up with him for three more nights.”

How the hell was he going to survive three more nights? The waitress arrived just then with his salad, and Arthur ordered another beer.

 

Æ

 

Three beers in, and he already felt unsteady on his feet. Just the slightest bit. Cobb laughed at him and said that grilled chicken wasn’t going to be helping him much with staving that off. When he got back to the hotel room, he wanted a cool shower because being drunk, even just slightly, always made him feel sweaty.

When he finished and came back into the room, Eames was sitting on the armchair that held his jacket, rapidly texting someone. He was slouched down and had one ankle slung over his knee. He looked up when he noticed Arthur.

“Enjoyed your dinner?” he asked companionably, but with his ever-present lilt that made Arthur unsure if he was teasing him or not.

“It was nice.” Arthur was glad he had brought his pajamas into the bathroom to change into after his shower. “How was yours?” The boldness from the drink enabled him to add, “Or were you doing something else?”

Eames raised an eyebrow. “Why, whatever could you mean, Arthur?” His eyes trailed over him, and Arthur turned away before he noticed the heat in his face.

“Nothing, I’m going to bed.” He shut the light off on his side of the room before climbing in. Then, his ritual with his phone and alarm.

He was lying in bed for all of two minutes before he felt the mattress dip on the other side. The other light went off. Arthur’s muscles stiffened. He waited for Eames to settle, because then maybe his pulse would return to a normal rate as well.

Eames’ breathing was much too close to him.

“Did you think I was off… gallivanting? Is that was you meant, Arthur?”

The way Eames said his name made him have to shut his eyes. He might as well have stroked Arthur’s cock.

“Good night, Eames,” he forced out under his breath.

For a moment, he thought Eames was going to say something else. But then he moved, making the mattress shake as he rolled back around to his side. Arthur kept his eyes tightly shut.

 

Æ

 

The next night, they were getting in bed again, and this time Arthur had a bone to pick.

“You need to be more careful,” he scolded as he threw the covers back. “Another mistake like that could cost us the job.”

“Ha!” Eames tossed his covers aside as well and climbed in. “I’m not the one who got the sister’s name wrong, love. If anyone’s work is going to ruin this job, it’s not going to be mine, in any case.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. The most annoying thing was that Eames was right; Arthur had forgotten the name. But how was he supposed to have predicted what a key detail it would end up being? Besides, he couldn’t be faulted for being a bit, to put it nicely, distracted. He had woken up this morning to discover the sheets smelled the faintest bit like tobacco and _Eames_.

Arthur turned his light off and the room went black, save for the glow of the sleepless city coming in through the window. He lied down, and his arm brushed against something warm and soft.

Arthur flinched. It was Eames’ bare arm. “Stay on your side!” He turned to face him, and Eames was right there, his face close to his. His aura warm and inviting. Arthur couldn’t turn away—couldn’t look away.

“The bed’s too small,” Eames said, “and I’ve always liked the center.” He nudged forward and his skin brushed against Arthur’s.

Arthur’s heart battered his chest. He wasn’t stopping him, and so Eames shifted even closer. Their legs brushed and sent jolts of lust through him.

Eames closed the distance between them and kissed Arthur on the mouth. His familiar, heady scent washed over Arthur and cloaked his senses. He parted his lips to deepen the kiss, the sudden desire to consume Eames running hot within him.

A groan escaped his throat, and the sharp sound was like an anchor dropping. Arthur opened his eyes, tore himself from Eames’ mouth.

Eames reached out to grab him but Arthur swatted his hand away.

“What’s the matter?”

Arthur’s first attempt to speak resulted in an odd strangled sound. His second attempt found his voice much clearer. “We can’t do this.”

Eames chuckled. “It’s not hard.” He reached out again and Arthur pushed his hand away.

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, come, Arthur.” There was humor in his voice. “We both know what we want.”

Arthur swallowed, and his head spun. It pounded softly in the back; he really should have eaten more. “What we… I don’t want this.”

“You don’t?”

It was a challenged, and all Arthur had to do was say no. No, he didn’t want this. No, he didn’t want Eames to keep kissing him. It was a simple word, no, just one syllable to form, one sound with the tip of the tongue. So why wasn’t he saying it?

The truth was, he didn’t want Eames to keep kissing him; he wanted more. It was torture for him sleeping next to all that gorgeous muscle and smooth, tattooed skin. And he was desperate to see Eames’ cock. Those thin pajama pants barely concealed its outline. Arthur licked his lips.

Eames sighed. “You need to learn to let go, Arthur.” This time, his name held no magic.

He shifted away to his side and rolled over, turning his back to him. Soon the air became cool again.

 

Æ

 

Cobb had to take him aside. He pulled Arthur’s arm until they were out of earshot of the others.

“What was that?”

Arthur ran a hand over his hair, pressing it back into place. “I don’t know. It just… snapped.”

“Oh just like that? Because it looked like you snapped it.”

Arthur exhaled hard. He hadn’t gotten much sleep and his head was aching. “I can go get another wire.” He was supposed to be fixing the PASIV, something he did all the time, but he was doing a shit job of it today.

“That’s not really the point, Arthur.” Cobb crossed his arms. “You need to deal with whatever’s bothering you, and then come back to work when you can actually do your job.”

“I’m fine. I’m not leaving work now.”

“It doesn’t look like you’re fine.”

“I’m just having a bad week.”

Cobb didn’t like jobs getting messed up by other people. He could mess up as much as he wanted, but the same didn’t go for anyone else on the team. “We are almost there,” he said. “We can’t afford any more mistakes on this, do you understand?” Arthur looked away.

With that, he sent Arthur out to get the wire. If there was one thing Arthur hated most, it was letting his work get shoddy. He was fastidious. He got things done. The details and the accuracy were things he prided himself on. Cobb was right, he was way too distracted.

And he really couldn’t let it get in the way any longer.

 

Æ

 

“You’re right,” Arthur said when they both got back to the room.

Eames raised his eyebrows. “About? I’m usually right, so you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Arthur ignored the snark. “I need to, er, let go.” Eames wasn’t making it easy for him, just staring like that. The dick. “About last night.” His pulse picked up.

The smile that stretched Eames lips was positively devilish. “Are you asking me for something in particular?”

He wished his stomach didn’t twist so much because his nerves definitely didn’t help. Arthur was never great at opening up. He wished for those three beers from last night. He sucked at admitting what he wanted.

He was much better at doing. So he strode right up to Eames, whose lips parted in surprise before Arthur even got there, and pulled him in. It was sloppy and open-mouthed right from the beginning. Tongues sliding together. Biting on lower lips. He couldn’t believe how desperately he wanted this.

As they kissed, Eames’ hands came up and gripped his waist tightly. He walked Arthur backward toward the bed. When his legs hit it, Arthur dropped down.

“I want you to do something for me, Arthur.” Eames’ voice was silk, and in this moment, Arthur would do whatever he wanted. “I want you to turn around, stomach down—there’s a boy.”

Arthur felt too vulnerable like this, face down on the bed with his ass turned to Eames, while Eames stood. But at the same time, it was almost freeing. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath.

Eames’ palms slid over his ass, cupping his cheeks, before reaching around to undo them at the front. He untucked Arthur’s shirt, and then pulled his trousers down his thighs. Arthur buried his face in his arms. Eames was pulling down his boxers now, making an appreciative noise in his throat.

“Arthur, I’m going to destroy you tonight.”

A soft moan escaped him as Eames parted his cheeks. He never felt so exposed.

Eames thumb brushed over his hole, and Arthur flinched, surprised. Eames hands tightened their grip on his cheeks and held him in place.

“Tell me,” Eames said, his voice lower than before, “have you ever been rimmed?”

 _Shit._ The word made his knees go weak. “No,” he breathed.

A low chuckle. “Well that is certainly a problem, isn’t it? We’ll have to change that.” Arthur gripped the duvet in his fists. “Would you like that, sweetheart?”

Would he like that? Arthur’s cock was currently leaking at the thought of it. He bit his lip. Despite the fact he’d never done it, he was certain he would like nothing more.

“You have to learn to let go, Arthur. Say what you want.” He could hear the grin in Eames’ voice. “So what do you want?”

Arthur licked his lips. “I..”

“Do you want me to do it to you?”

“To rim me? Shit… I mean.”

“I want you to say it.”

Arthur’s cheeks burned, but he forced it out. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Damn it, Eames!”

“Say it, Arthur.” Eames purred. “Tell me what you want, darling.” He lightly, almost tenderly, stroked Arthur’s ass.

Arthur’s breath came hard. “I want…” He groaned with the effort of it. “I want you to eat my ass.”

“Oh, yes,” Eames hissed, rubbing one finger over Arthur’s rim.

“Eames.” Arthur’s face burned even as pleasure poured through him.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do to you, Arthur,” he said close to his ear. “I’m going to eat that lovely arse of yours until you’re a blubbering mess.” He spit on Arthur’s hole; a strange sensation. “Say it again.”

“Please eat me.” He panted. The more he was made to say it, the easier it was. In a way, Eames was right.

With the first swipe of Eames’ tongue, Arthur groaned into the mattress. It was different from anything he’d ever felt, wet and warm over such a sensitive spot. His muscles twitched as Eames’ tongue ran over it, almost rhythmic in motion. Arthur’s cock throbbed as it continued and sent him further into a daze of need.

Eames pulled away, and his voice was gruff. “Do you like that?”

“Fuck, yes.” The words now seemed to tumble out of him. “Eames… fuck me.”

Eames made a noise that could only be described as a growl, and he climbed onto the bed with Arthur. He attacked the rest of Arthur’s clothes, pulling his trousers the rest of the way down and off his ankles. Arthur stripped Eames of his shirt, running his hands along the broad chest.

He leaned in and sucked a kiss onto Eames’ throat. He found himself on top, Eames having fallen onto his back. Arthur looked down, his gaze moving down Eames’ body.

He swallowed at the sight of Eames’ cock, hard and flushed, jutting out from among his pubic hair. The head shone with precome.

He wanted to get fucked with that.

Eames reached over to his side, into his nightstand, and pulled out a jar of lube. After removing the lid, he offered it to Arthur.

“Why don’t you do me up, love?”

Arthur wasted no time in complying, scooping out what was probably way too much lube. Taking Eames’ smooth, warm shaft in one hand, he stroked it with his other, slicking the length completely. Eames hissed in a breath through clenched teeth.

“Good, very good. Yes. Now—” He grabbed Arthur by the waist and, in one smooth move, flipped them over. “Lift those legs for me.” He ran his hands over the underside of his thighs as Arthur lifted them.

Eames’ fingers found Arthur’s hole. He toyed with it gently with his fingertips.

“I’m going to enjoy fucking you, Arthur.”

“Don’t get too cocky about it.” Arthur’s lips turned up.

“Oh, but it will feel so good, after so long.”

Did he mean, he’d wanted to do this for a while now? It was a preposterous idea, knowing Eames. Arthur had never once imagined Eames was anything other than affably tolerant of him. Eames flirted with other people, but never him.

Maybe he’d been too closed off to notice. The tragedy of that hit him all at once, and he suddenly felt as though he would suffocate if he had to conceal even one more thing.

“I’m going to enjoy it too,” he said, and there was definitely something about the pleasant surprise that flashed in Eames’ eyes Arthur could get used to. “I want it so bad.”

The noise Eames made in response was practically predatory.

“Fuck me,” Arthur said. “Hard. I want it hard.”

Eames exhaled and lined up his cock with Arthur’s ass. The head felt huge against his hole. When Eames moved his hips, Arthur shut his eyes against the burning stretch. But he was so slicked up, the rest of the way was relatively smooth, and soon Eames was buried in him. Arthur’s mouth fell open, his body adjusting to the feeling of being absolutely filled.

Then Eames moved again, and he began fucking him in earnest.

He rutted into him, hands poised on either side of Arthur’s chest. Arthur ran his hands up Eames’ back, relishing in the flex of muscle and the glorious feel of him. He let breathy moans escape him freely. Couldn’t help it. His mind was far from being able to think. All he knew was the way Eames was fucking him, and the way he sang his name near his ear: _“Arthur, oh… yes. Arthur.”_

 

Æ

 

The room was dark except for the soft city lights that made their way through the shaded window. Tokyo was alive all around him, as alive as Arthur. The air of the room was cool against his skin. Eames’ chest was hot against his cheek.

Eames stroked his fingers through Arthur’s hair. It was soft and loose after the shower, all the stiff gel washed away.

“We should request to room together again,” Eames said quietly, “during the next job.”

Arthur chuckled. But he wasn’t going to refute it. “Goodnight, Eames.”

 

END.

**Author's Note:**

> Contact me on tumblr: [@heyitsamorette](https://heyitsamorette.tumblr.com/)


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